


The Other Ghost

by dearoctopuswriting



Category: GHOST - Fandom
Genre: Flash Fiction, Other, Parody, Spoof, dear octopus writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 19:13:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8339398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearoctopuswriting/pseuds/dearoctopuswriting
Summary: I think Ghost is a terrible, terrible film. Boring as hell. You are entitled to your opinion just as much as I mine. So I decided to write a parody text, which asks the question: what if the ghost wasn't actually Patrick Swayze?





	

My life’s pretty crap at the moment. I have no money, my home is being run by this airy-fairy American potter called Molly, my family and friends are gone, I don’t get out much. And I’m dead. Nobody talks to you when you’re dead. Nobody even knows I’m there. Even that “psychic” Whoopi Golberg-alike can’t see me. She thinks she senses Molly's husband who was brutally murdered a little while ago. Not me, though. Not diddly squat! 

Just to clarify: that woman a fraud. A total fraud. That cardboard boyfriend of hers isn’t there. But by God, she’s milking that Molly for all the money she has. All those stupid sculptures cluttering up my house! The only good thing is that I can have a good gawk at her- in the shower, getting changed, pleasuring herself. I know, it’s weird but being dead does things to you!

So I’m doing my rounds, you know, poltergeist spooky stuff. I see her manhandling the clay on the pottery wheel. Probably going to make yet another modern art monstrosity, or something. But this time instead of having that screwy determined expression while she works, she’s all hot and bothered. The kind of hot and bothered she gets when she reads those Black Lace Novels. She’s squatting on that wooden stool, all heavy breathing like someone’s touching her. I don’t see why you’re looking at me, she thinks its her husband. Besides, I’m a ghost for crying out loud. I can’t touch shit! I laugh for a moment, before I get a pack of potato chips and sit on the couch.

**Author's Note:**

> Entered as part of the 52 week Flash fiction challenge which can be found here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/flashfictionchallenge/, under the word for Week 33 "Pottery".


End file.
